Eye For A Tooth (25 page)

It is not for me to make recommendations, but I think I am right in saying that, for some time past, the Director of Public Prosecutions has been uneasy about Worsted and Co. and I hope that Biretta’s statement will enable him to take such action as he may think desirable.

Yours ever,

JONAH.

PS – The Austrian police are looking for Cain. They won’t find him, but they would love a line from you, to say that, although his name does not appear in your records, you are about to proceed against his firm.

What answer Mansel received, I do not know: but I know that on Wednesday night Geoffrey dined with Mansel at Cleveland Row. I know that, because he told us that ‘Geoffrey’ was going to come: then he set his hands on our shoulders and this is what he said.

“It is a real grief to me that I cannot ask you as well. Without you, I could have done nothing, and I shall tell him so. But he is within the law and I am without the law; he is the right hand and I, sometimes, am the left: and the right hand must never know what the left hand does. That is the golden rule – which now and again we break.
But no one must know that we break it
. Whilst he is here with me, Carson will be standing outside the door and one of his men will be watching the door of the flats.”

This was easy to understand, and we said as much; but Jonathan Mansel was the most generous of men and I very much doubt if he did himself justice that night. For to him must go the credit for all we did. Of the actual thrust and parry, I had a very fair share; but, but for Mansel’s brain we should never have come to blows. I have often worked with him since, but I never saw his precious gift of vision displayed to more advantage than in this case. How many men would have seen that Bowshot had been murdered? And how many professional detectives would have read aright the riddle – or seen that there
was
a riddle – set by the fact that the tailor’s label was loose? Yet, weary to death as he was when he found the corpse, he saw that for some good reason the murderers needed proof that their victim was dead: and so he hid the body and put a spoke in their wheel. That they needed such proof was the only card he had, but he played it again and again – to take trick after trick. He had next to nothing to go on, till Forecast came: and then, though we might have struck, he had the wit and the patience to hold his hand. One by one he lured the principals into the net, and though, at the last, they nearly brought us down, they only got as far as they did by deceiving and showing violence to a lady who had suffered enough. And that was the kind of card which, though he had picked up a handful, Mansel would never have played.

So ‘the right hand’ dined with ‘the left ‘on Wednesday night: and Mansel and George and I left by air for Paris the following day.

Caroline, Duchess of Varvic regarded her excellent hands.

“First,” she said, “let me tell you as much as I know. And then you three shall tell me as much as you please. I think, perhaps, it’s better that you shouldn’t tell me too much. You see, you have managed so well that, so far as I can make out, between Goschen and Varvic I am the only link. That link is very slender. Well, we don’t want to make it strong – in case it should presently be tested. I don’t think it will be tested; but I’d rather not know too much, just in case it is.”

“I entirely agree,” said Mansel. “Besides, inquiries apart, the less you know, the less you will have to forget: for I hope you will forget a great deal that is past. That, of course, will take time: but I’ve thought of a way which would shorten that time for me; and so, before we go, I’m going to suggest it to you. And now please let us hear what you have to tell.”

“Richard left me,” said the Duchess, “about a quarter to eight, and I knew nothing more till they came to me for orders at a quarter to twelve. Saul, they said, had gone out, but had not returned. He had gone out very early, driving alone. I asked where he had gone to: but nobody seemed to know. I waited till one o’clock and then I sent out three cars to scour the countryside. The cars were back by three, but they brought no news. I then informed the police.

“Saul’s body was found on Sunday, just before noon. He had been killed in a man-trap, about six miles from the castle, in a quarter of the estate which I have never seen. There is, I believe, an old house, in the heart of some very thick woods; but the place has been abandoned for many years. Very few, I am told, will go near it, for suicides are said to be buried there, and they say that the woods are shunned by birds and beasts. Locally, it is known as Golgotha. Why Saul should have gone there nobody seems to know. His car was found close to the house. The man-traps were in the charge of a foreman called Hans: it seemed likely that he would know something; but Hans had disappeared. So have two other men who were known to be working with him. A suggestion has been made that Saul drove out privily, because he wanted no one to know of the man-traps which he had had set – that they were barbarous things is very plain – and that, when he walked into one, Hans and the others were frightened to death and fled. Hans is not regretted; he was a brute of a man. That Auger was Saul’s confidential valet, I think you know. His disappearance has been noted, but not pursued: the man was detested and feared by high and low. Of Forecast the police know nothing, but I understand that they were looking for Cain. A car he had used was found, not very far from the Salzburg–Villach road. Cain was known to have been in touch with Saul.

“An inquest was held on Monday, without result. Saul was found to have died by misadventure: the police were careful not to produce the trap. It seems that such things are illegal and may not be set. For the honour of Varvic, therefore, the matter will not be pursued. For the same reason, search for Hans and his fellows will not be made. The police do not want revelations which would reflect upon Saul. But they are hot to find Cain. They have the impression that Cain could give them the answer to many things. They think that Cain is the villain of the piece. They believe that Saul visited Golgotha in response to a summons from Cain. A summons in the shape of a note; but that note cannot be found. They have the two men who brought it: but, except that they were told to bring it, these men pretend to know nothing of what occurred. But they brought it from Golgotha, which argues that Cain was there. Yet his car was found miles away. So the police are mystified. There is an Italian at Latchet, whom they have put under arrest. He weeps and wails all the time, but he will not talk. He denies all knowledge of Cain, but the police insist that Cain visited him on Friday and that a quarrel took place. In fact, the whole business is wrapped in mystery. It is thought that certain foresters could talk, if they pleased: but Saul’s death has frightened them all, and the word has gone round for them to hold their tongues. And I think the man-traps upset them. It seems that the one Saul died in was one of ten or twelve: and they should not have been set. So no one knows anything, for fear of being involved.

“Working with poles, they found four traps in the meadows and two by one of the drives. The remaining three or five, as the case may be, are thought to be in Golgotha: but no one, the police included, likes looking for them, so the place will be fenced about and marked with DANGER boards.

“The funeral took place on Tuesday. The heir attended – Saul’s cousin: he’s not too bad. He is now Duke Rudolph of Varvic. Saul had next to nothing, except from me: and now that he’s dead, my income is mine again. But Rudolph has money and so will keep up the estate. He asked me to stay, if I pleased, for the next three months, but I’ve said goodbye and I shan’t go back again.

“Well, there you are. That’s really all I know – apart from what Richard told me, and he didn’t say very much. But he said enough to show me that you three have done such justice as the law could never have done. And so I am very sure that John sleeps in peace. But one thing worries me – that wretched Italian that they have put under arrest. There’s some mistake there, of course. And I’d hate to think–”

“He’s not an Italian,” said Mansel, “though he bears an Italian name. He is Cain’s partner.”

“Ah!”

“He’s served his turn, but he wasn’t worth putting to death, and that’s the truth. But the rope is round his neck. Yesterday morning at Bow Street an information was sworn and two men left for Austria yesterday afternoon. So he will return to England under arrest. He will not be charged with conspiring to cause John Bowshot’s death: he will be charged with converting his and other fortunes. He will certainly go to prison for at least ten years.

“We saw him eight days ago: and we took a statement from him. I brought a copy with me for you to see. It’s rather illuminating – confirms a good many suspicions and ties some ends up. And I’m going to show it you now, because it introduces the suggestion which I said I was going to make.”

With that, he put the copy into her hand.

The Duchess read it carefully, finger to lip.

As she handed it back—

“How on earth did he come to sign this?”

“We suggested that, if he did, he might escape arrest on a capital charge.”

“It sounds very easy, when you put it like that. In fact you make light of everything. The notes you used to send to the clinic… Yet, what is the truth? You started from scratch, you’ve unravelled every inch of the mystery and you’ve brought to book every one of the guilty men. I wish I knew how to thank you.”

“We want no thanks,” said George. “To be frank, we don’t even deserve them. We have simply met the demands which our sense of justice made. And now please listen to Mansel: as I think you know, he’s always getting ideas; but this one appeals to me.”

“Well?” said the Duchess, smiling.

“We don’t know your plans,” said Mansel, “but Beehive is in the market and, before very long, you would, I think, be able to purchase The Manor House. As it stands. As it was left by its owner a month or two back. I should think you could buy the lot for fifty thousand pounds. If you felt like making your home there…”

The Duchess closed her eyes and put her hands to her face.

After a little—

“Will you help me to do it?” she said. “I mean, I should like it better than anything in the world.” She rose and stretched out her arms. “What should I have done without you three good men? To live in the home he loved! D’you think his servants would stay? The butler and cook, I mean. They were man and wife. Curly, their name was: and I know they were devoted to him.”

“Once they’ve seen you,” said George, “you won’t get them out of the house.”

Then and there it was settled that Mansel should see his solicitor – Forsyth, by name – and that he should then wait upon the Duchess and take her instructions to purchase not only The Manor House but the Beehive estate. Indeed, it did our hearts good to see how the prospect pleased her. I cannot say that she was gay, but Mansel had set a light in her wonderful eyes.

We did not say goodbye, for she was to come to England within the week, and she made us promise to dine with her in London the day after she arrived.

And that is very nearly the end of my tale.

Upon Mansel’s affidavit, the Court gave leave to presume John Bowshot’s death. He was found to have died intestate and Letters of Administration were taken out. Six weeks later the Duchess entered his home. She had already bought Beehive, and so the Lady of the Manor dwelled in The Manor House. And the village was mad about her: no estate in England was more considerately run.

Biretta stood his trial at the Central Criminal Court. He pleaded guilty to conversion and was sentenced to twelve years’ penal servitude. John Bowshot was but one of the victims of Worsted and Co. Investigation showed that Biretta and Cain, between them, had stolen from their clients more than one hundred and eighty thousand pounds. And since they had been speculating in foreign currency, the lot was gone.

The ‘hostel’ in Bedlam Row was raided and closed.

The Austrian police continued their search for Cain for several weeks; then they made up their minds that he must have left the country, and directed their attention to other things.

Of Varvic I know no more than the Duchess said, but I like to think that Rudolph is a worthier master than Saul.

But I often think of those seven crowded weeks and how on that dreadful night we nearly lost the game and our lives and everything. I remember the first quiet nights when we watched the path to Latchet, but nobody ever came: I remember the grim reconstruction of poor John Bowshot’s end: and I see Forecast lying senseless, beside the stream, whilst I strove to memorize the map which the Duke had marked: I can hear the Duchess’ quick breathing, as we sat on the step of her coupé and I told her the wicked truth: and I see Cain lounging at Goschen – lounging and lying and smiling, with his eyes fast on Mansel’s face. I remember our race to Varvic, to rescue George, and how Mansel beat the lorry with less than inches to spare; and I see Hans oiling the man-traps and China’s startled gaze; and I hear Biretta’s whimper and watch him making his statement with bolting eyes. And then I remember the lodge…with the birdless woods about it…and the devil’s acre behind… I feel again the instinct that warned us off, in whose face we were forced to fly on that terrible night; and the burden of those few hours is as sharp and clear in my mind as though it were yesterday’s. I see Cain fall with the gutter fast in his grip; I hear Saul’s screams, as he paid the wages of sin ; but clearest of all is ever the awful event which neither eye nor ear can be said to record, when the hall of the lodge disappeared, when the darkness gaped upon me, when the very breath of corruption blasted my face… I have ridden storms since then, but never like that: for then my soul was shaken and for two or three shocking moments the powers of evil sat on the throne of God.

George Hanbury shall sum up.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything in the world. It was a great experience: and taking it by and large, we had less rough than smooth. But that merry-go-down was a dirty bit of work, and the wallah that thought it out had a nasty mind. Still, I’d almost face it again to see Caroline ruling Beehive, and the look upon Curly’s face when she says, ‘Is the port all right? Good. That’s Curly. I’m not a judge of wine, but he is a connoisseur.’”